


Movie Night

by ladydragon76



Category: Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, kink: public sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-25
Updated: 2012-04-25
Packaged: 2017-11-04 07:10:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/391155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladydragon76/pseuds/ladydragon76
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Summary:</b> Thundercracker watches too much TV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Movie Night

**Author's Note:**

> **‘Verse:** IDW  
>  **Series:** None  
>  **Rating:** NC-17  
>  **Pairing:** Bumblebee/Thundercracker  
>  **Warning:** Crack. Oh my, the utter and completely impossible crack…  
>  **Notes:** Sticky as requested, and had help figuring that Bee probably stands about nose to middle-top of TC’s cockpit glass, so… proportionate enough to make it work for this fic? Sure, why not? ^_^ Also bickering. OMG the bickering. I barely know these two characters in IDW, so I kinda just let them have at it. The prompt was from velaquiel - _IDW Bumblebee/Thundercracker. Movie night._

“Primus! You’re watching _more_ TV?” Bumblebee asked as he entered the common room. It was late, past midnight, and nearly everyone was in recharge or out on their duty shift, and hearing the sound had drawn him in to check it out.

“It’s an adaptation of Shakespeare with modern teenagers.”

Bumblebee arched an optic ridge, connecting to the Web. “ _Ten Things I Hate About You_. Really?”

Thundercracker cast him a glare. “I’m _bored_. And it’s not that bad.”

“There are so many other things you could do instead of sit around watching TV all the time.”

Thundercracker sighed, and twisted to face Bumblebee. “Like what? Not like I have any friends here. Better than lying alone in my berth all slagging night.”

“Miss them?”

“He shot me in the face.”

“Doesn’t mean you don’t miss him,” Bumblebee said.

“Please shut up.”

Bumblebee sighed. “I couldn’t recharge either.”

“Didn’t ask.” Thundercracker turned back around, arms folding over his chest.

Bumblebee snorted. “You need laid. You’re way too moody still.”

“You volunteering?” Thundercracker asked without looking back.

Shaking his helm, Bumblebee said, “If it’d actually help, yeah.”

Thundercracker looked around at him then, optic ridge raised. “I’m serious.”

“So am I. Sick of your moping. So yeah. If fucking you cheers you up, or at least gets you off your aft a few hours a day, then fine. Let’s do it.”

“Wow. You’re so romantic.”

“I’m sorry, sweetspark. Should I go pick you some flowers? Will that help?” Bumblebee snorted again, and stomped over to flop down on the couch. “Primus!”

Thundercracker snorted too. “Frag yourself. I prefer my lovers to actually want me.”

“Who says I don’t actually want you?” Bumblebee asked. “It’s the attitude I can live without.”

“You’re gonna go on about _my_ attitude?”

“Get you some black nail polish, and start lining your optics with kohl.”

Thundercracker narrowed his optics. “I get it,” he said, smirking. “Little mech with a little spike.” He waved his hand at Bumblebee. “You couldn’t get me off anyway.”

“Hah! Reverse psychology? I don’t think so.” Bumblebee crossed his arms, and stared at the TV screen.

“Not reverse anything. The truth. And I can’t spike you because I’d tear you apart.”

“Get over yourself.”

“You get over _yourself_ ,” Thundercracker shot back.

“Ya know what?!” Bumblebee dove sideways, knocking Thundercracker over onto his back on the floor. “Don’t! Say a word unless it’s ‘no’.” He paused a moment. Thundercracker’s optics narrowed, but he didn’t say anything. “I get you off, you spend a whole twenty-four hours without television. Deal?”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

“Good.”

“Oh, just open it already!” Bumblebee snapped. “Why are the pretty ones always jerks?”

“Aw… You think I’m pretty?” Thundercracker mocked, panel retracting.

Bumblebee did the same, letting his spike extend. “Yeah. I actually do.”

“And that’s not as small as I expected it to be.”

Bumblebee’s mouth compressed into a flat line. Then he leaned back to look at Thundercracker’s array. “And that’s not the gaping cavern I was expecting.”

“Frag off!”

Bumblebee grinned, carefully pushing a finger into Thundercracker’s valve. “You _do_ want this don’t you?”

Thundercracker let his helm drop back. “You should stop talking, you’re turning me off.”

“Doesn’t feel that way.” Bumblebee slowly worked his finger in and out, then added a second. “It’s the snarking, isn’t it? Bickering wind you up?”

“I got a better idea about what you could use your mouth for.”

“Nah.” Bumblebee shifted, leaning up over Thundercracker and lining up his spike. “You really sure about this?”

“Don’t play that game with me,” Thundercracker said, hands going to Bumblebee’s sides, and tugging at him.

Bumblebee pushed forward, sheathing his spike in the slick heat of Thundercracker’s valve. It felt better than it had any right to, and a half dozen extra little things crowded Bumblebee’s processor for why this was hot. Seeker. Decepticon. He was the Autobot leader, and shouldn’t be taking advantage of a refugee. He should be setting an example. Oh, and they were right in the middle of the common room floor, and despite the unlikelihood of anyone coming in at this hour, it was still possible.

“Come on! Move!” Thundercracker gasped.

Bumblebee did. Rocking their hips together as Thundercracker pulled his knees up, and let them fall outward. He reached out, fingers sliding into Thundercracker’s transformation seams, tugging lines and stroking over cables. Thundercracker didn’t really do much back, but that was all right. That left Bumblebee free to observe and enjoy.

Thundercracker’s vents picked up, his hands squeezing in time to Bumblebee’s thrusts, pulling him in, urging him on. Thundercracker’s wings began to shiver against the floor, and Bumblebee bent his helm to lick along the edge of his cockpit. That earned him his first real moan so he kept at it, digging his fingers deeper. His own vents cycled faster, Thundercracker pushing into each thrust, his valve calipers rolling up from the base of Bumblebee’s spike to the tip.

They began to heat quickly, low sounds escaping them both. Bumblebee’s sensornet buzzed, a tight tingling growing more insistent as it banded around his hips.

Thundercracker broke first, a sharp shout which dropped to a bass moan that rumbled right through Bumblebee and triggered his release. He gasped, driving in hard for those last few thrusts, then collapsed over Thundercracker.

The silence stretched, neither talking for a good five minutes. Finally, Thundercracker lifted his helm. “Wow. I really do feel better.”

Bumblebee snickered and shook his head. “Twenty-four hours.”

“Yeah,” Thundercracker said, groping along the floor for the dropped remote. He turned off the television, and discarded the remote. “Double or nothing?”

Bumblebee grinned.


End file.
